A Night on the Mountain
by Unhobbity Hobbit
Summary: The night spent on Caradhras mostly from Pippin's point of view.


A/N: Thought I'd gone forever didn't you? Ha, no, I'm just lazy. Anyway, all Boromir's and Gandalf's words are taken from FotR, Book two, The Ring goes South.

A Night on the Mountain

He was drowsy, so drowsy. He couldn't think of anything other than sleep and soon he couldn't even think. He thought himself drifting happily home upon the breeze to land safely in front of the fire. He was so close to the fire, in fact, that it was burning him, but it felt warm, so warm, the change was welcome.

"Come away," said his sister, "you'll burn yourself," but he was so tired, he couldn't move and he didn't want to anyway. As he was relating these facts to his sister, Pippin found himself shaken by his shoulders. He tried to bat the person away but his arms were too heavy, they felt like lead, or would have done, had they not been so numb with the cold.

"No need to be so rough," said Pippin to his sister, though the hands gripping him were far too large for any hobbits'. Pippin cracked one eye open and found no fire, no warm smial and certainly no sister. He saw instead Boromir's worried face briefly before it moved to the next hobbit in the line.

Slowly, so very slowly, the memories slipped back into his head, as though they were taking an afternoon stroll. He was with the fellowship. Who were the fellowship? Ah well, that would come to him later. They were on a very important mission to destroy a ring. That thought made him giggle, but not very much because he was so very tired. Perhaps he was still dreaming, it was a very silly dream, destroying a ring indeed!

Merry was here, he remembered, with Frodo and Sam. That was odd, Sam didn't usually come on their outings. How did he end up so cold and tired anyway? Had something terrible happened to them? Perhaps he'd lost his legs in some terrible accident because it really didn't feel like they were there. He wished his nose wasn't there, it was throbbing like nobody's business.

Then he remembered they weren't in the Shire, they were up a mountain, which would account for the coldness and there were nine of them, nine walkers against the nine riders, whoever they were. Perhaps they were in a race to see who could get over the mountain first, walkers or riders? That seemed terribly dangerous.

"This will be the death of the haflings, Gandalf!" said a low, familiar voice that brought with it a barrage of memories. Yes, they were on a quest to save Middle-earth, that was right. Apparently, according to the man, they were going to die. How unfortunate. "It is useless to sit here until the snow goes over our heads. We must do something to save ourselves." Boromir, that was the name of the man with the voice. Good old Boromir, it was good of him to try to save them.

Pippin opened his eye again, wondering if it was so heavy because he was tired or if it was frozen to his cheek. Everything was very white, but that was snow for you. A pony was trying to shield them from the wind, for which he would have been grateful if his brain was working fast enough for such things to register. Pippin turned his head and saw Frodo next to him, in much the same state; gazing around waiting for his mind to move faster than a snail's pace. Frodo's eyes found Pippin's and he tried to smile but his cheeks seemed to be having nap and ignored him, Pippin attempted a smile back, to much the same effect.

Boromir then returned with a drink and dribbled a small amount into Frodo's mouth. Pippin watched, vaguely wondering what it was, if he was going to be given any and if it tasted nice. As it turned out, Boromir did pour some down Pippin's throat. The effect it had was so dramatic, however, that he entirely forgot to taste it.

Warmth flooded him briefly and brought all limbs, cheeks, noses, ears and eyelids back to life. His brain finally awoke with new-found hope and vigour. With both his eyes now wide open, he was able to pay attention to what was happening around him. It was snowing still, which was no surprise, but Boromir was now trying to persuade Gandalf to light a fire, he succeeded quite easily, Pippin thought Gandalf must be very cold too.

Each hobbit passed the wood they had collected at the bottom of the mountain at Boromir's advice to Aragorn, who arranged it into the shape of a fire and then set about trying to set it alight. It was not long before everyone present could tell he was going to fail. Boromir joined him but the outcome was just the same. Gimli then offered the skill of the dwarves and spent a considerable amount of time creating no more than a spark, which would land on the wood (if the wind did not blow it in the wrong direction) and fizzle out on the wet fuel. Legolas then offered his expertise, but to no avail. Pippin elbowed Merry, whose eyelids were starting to droop again.

With great reluctance Gandalf held aloft a faggot of wood and said some words in a language Pippin could not understand. The wood burst into flame. Gandalf then said something foretelling some sort of doom but Pippin had no time for being pessimistic as he dragged his heavy feet as close to the fire as he could without standing in it. When his concentration spread elsewhere than the fire and warming his hands by it, he noticed everyone else had done the same.

He looked around everyone's faces and wondered if his face showed the strain as much as theirs did. Aragorn seemed to have a permanently furrowed brow, even when nothing brow-furrowing was happening. Everyone else had bags beneath their eyes and no one's eyes were as alive as they had been at Rivendell. All except Legolas, who did not seem much worried by the storm. Gandalf looked older than ever and the lines of age on his face seemed deeper than ever before.

As the fire burned low, the last faggot of wood was thrown on. Pippin was still warming his hands by the fire because as soon as he removed them they became as cold as ever. The news Aragorn brought of the night ending brought cheer to Pippin and to his fellow hobbits.

"I don't think I've ever been quite so encouraged to say awake all night," said Merry, breaking a silence that had long formed around the hobbits in a cold so unnatural to them. Pippin snorted in laughter. So clearly he could remember nights when he had stayed with Merry and Aunt Esmerelda had to tell them to go to sleep at least five times before they did.

"The snow is growing less," said Boromir, looking out into the sky, "and the wind is quieter." All the hobbits' attentions were drawn to the snow but it was a long while before any noticed what Boromir had. This cheered Pippin a little, but the effects of a cold and sleepless night were beginning to show. His hands dropped to his side and his eyelids became heavy and had he been allowed, he would have fallen asleep where he stood. Perhaps he had fallen asleep, for when Merry roused him, the snow had stopped and the sky was bright with the morning sun.

It was nothing like the morning sun they would be getting in the Shire, thought Pippin. This sun had no strength against the snow of Caradhras. If they had sun like this back home, there would never be any need to rush out to play in the snow before it melted.

Gimli put forward the idea of going back down the mountain rather than continuing on and it was all Pippin could do to stop himself shouting: "Yes! Yes! For the sake of all that is good, get us off this cursed mountain!" but the snow was high, higher than Pippin's head and Gandalf quickly quashed any ideas of him melting the way through the snow.

"I must have something to work on. I cannot burn snow," he said. The solution came quickly. Aragorn and Boromir began the long toil of carving a way through the snow with nothing but their bare hands. Pippin leaned against the rock wall of the mountain for a rest, the only comfort Caradhras would ever allow him and thought how lucky he was that hobbits lived in the Shire. If his ancestors had taken a different route, perhaps they would have ended up nearer the mountains and the cold. That thought did not appeal to Pippin, why, then every night would be like the last and no one would ever get any sleep!

FIN


End file.
